Last Groundhog Day, I made a commitment for the month that I found far superior to any batch of New Year's resolutions I had ever concocted. The plan was to make one change every day for the entire month. I didn't commit to making the changes last. Some stuck. Some didn't. But I pretty faithfully picked at least one thing every day to change.
I had no idea where the process would lead, but every step of the way was exhilirating. Not all the changes were earth-shattering. One day, I decided I needed to stretch in the morning to get the blood flowing. Another day I ate an apple instead of a cookie. Somewhere along the way I decided not to say anything negative about anybody. I took a break from the computer. Oh, yeah, and on one of the last days of the month, I resigned from my job of almost 10 years.
The more comfortable I became with change, the more I realized that big changes needed to happen. I loved it. It was amazing. It seriously changed my life.
But I gradually stopped making changes. And now I miss them. I miss the daily realization that something about me needs to change, at least until I make it all the way to perfect (which, Heather reminded me, will happen after I flatline).
And I can't recommend anything with more sincerity and gusto. That's right, long before Barack Obama made change fashionable, I got hooked on it myself for a whole month. Change, even for its own sake, is brilliant. Try it . . . for a change. Yes, I know that was cheesy. I'm okay with it.